


Give it no name

by AbAbsurdo



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Angst, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25866979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbAbsurdo/pseuds/AbAbsurdo
Summary: It's jealousy.It creeps and catches the victim unaware, turning him into the predator fighting love in the darkest of hours.Who will win?
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Richard Ellis
Comments: 10
Kudos: 60





	Give it no name

_“By night, beloved, tie your heart to mine_  
_and let them both in dreams defeat the darkness”_  
Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets

Thomas took a sip of his beer to find it had gone lukewarm. Bloody awful. He’d been nursing it ever since they had sat down, glass gripped in his hands for a long time, listening to Richard talking with his friends. His leg was unconsciously shaking for the equally long time, and Richard’s hand often found its way on Thomas’ knee discreetly stopping it only for the bouncing to return a few minutes after the warmth of Richard’s palm was removed.

He closed his itching eyes against the flashes of light, a slight tingle on his cheek and left arm kept travelling up and down his muscles. He couldn’t follow the conversation making it difficult to participate or even care to be involved in it. His thought of being on his bed, under warm blankets in a dark room, Richard’s arms wrapped around him was interrupted by a nausea and his stomach clenched uncomfortably. 

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered to Richard and headed to the pub’s toilet, hoping beyond hope to be clean. 

Richard had planned to come to York to visit his family, and when he asked Thomas to request a couple of days off to spend them together two months earlier, he couldn’t do anything else but accept. The days ever since passed agonisingly slow until he found himself waiting for Richard at the train station. Everything started move faster the moment he saw the cheeky smile and bright blue eyes locked on his. 

It didn’t cross his mind to refuse when Richard told him to come with him to meet some of his old friends, but the evening was proven to be tiresome. Richard had been drinking more than Thomas had seen him before, and Thomas was feeling his mood changing drastically in the last couple of hours as the pain on his left temple throbbed. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply and used his right hand to wet his face, cold water a shock against his warm skin. 

Coming out of the bathroom, he stumbled against a man and took a couple of steps back. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, the sound of his own voice reverberating inside his head, the pain pulsing in his temples. 

“No problem. You alright?” the man asked. And then. “Thomas?” 

Thomas looked up to the man who seemed to be so awfully familiar to him, but he couldn’t really place from where he knew him. He stood there, looking, trying to remember. When the memory returned to his tired mind, he tried to smile. “Chris!” He often wondered what had happened to the man who had shown him a different aspect of life in a night that started beautiful turned horrific only to end with Thomas finding his partner. He owed a lot to Chris even if the man didn’t know it. Thomas himself wasn’t certain if Richard would have made a move if he wasn’t certain for Thomas. Thomas had no clue Richard was interested in him. Had he not gone with Chris that night might have meant no Richard in his life. 

“I’m so glad to see you again, Thomas. Still the most handsome chap in the room.”

Even after a long-term relationship with an affectionate man like Richard, Thomas hadn’t learnt to be complimented. He looked down, heat rising in his pale cheeks. Head throbbing, he lost his balance and leaned against the wall, a pair of strong hands gripping his shoulders. “You alright?”

“Fine,” Thomas said, the proximity of the other man making him uncomfortable. Breathing was difficult and he needed fresh air. “Need to get out.” He stumbled down the corridor to the exit, not sparing a glance at Richard. He closed the door behind him and let his body rest against the wall, breathing in and out slowly, taking the cold air inside his lungs. 

He instantly lit a cigarette, more out of habit than anything else. He heard the door opening and Chris was standing next to him. “I was worried.”

“Don’t be. It’s just a headache,” Thomas’ eyes were closed.

“You’re here with Ellis.” A statement instead of a question. Thomas’ headache was playing games with his regard to words. Their existence was insignificant and while he was listening to Chris’ talking, he didn’t feel he had to understand him as well. He just nodded, watching the smoke from his cigarette finding its way to Chris, dancing around his smiling face. 

“You know Richard?” Thomas didn’t have it in him to be surprised and if he noticed Chris’ testiness at the mention of Richard’s name, he didn’t show it. His eyes kept on following the smoke from his cigarette as it dissolved in the air. The whole left side of his head ached horribly, and his vision was blurred. He took a step ahead and stumbled. 

Chris was watching him like a hawk. He clasped his shoulders gently and pushed him against the wall. “Hey, lean against the wall or you fall over. Did you have a lot to drink?”

~

  
Chris had just sat on the bar, drinking from his glass of whiskey, looking around for familiar faces when his gaze fell on a very familiar one. Richard Ellis was in town and out with friends. He hid his smirk behind his glass and wondered how badly the night would end if he strolled over for a hello. Considering things were slow enough, and he did feel pent up energy ready to burst out, he seriously considered it, when he saw the man sitting next to Richard. The smile turned into something more sincere and honest. 

_Thomas Barrow._

It was already two years from the fateful evening, that had started so promising only to end in shatters. He was grateful to Barrow, even now. Thanks to him, he had removed himself from a nasty affair that had lasted for decades. The wide-eyed pleasure in the pale blue eyes, the unmistaken innocent delight he had seen the other man experiencing up close and personal reminded him of purer times, when he still respected himself. Strangely enough, that respect had left with the man sitting close to Barrow.

God works in mysterious ways.

Thomas, though. Still as handsome as that night, Chris noticed, even with his hair slightly longer, and looking paler was as breathtaking as the moment they entered Turton's. He hadn't thought of the man for months now, but those first weeks, he wondered what could have happened had things ended up differently. Maybe he'd be the one sitting next to him in the table by the windows.   
So many _what ifs_ in life...  
If he had been smarter, less greedy, maybe he'd have been the one sitting next to Ellis even now.

  
No need to cry over spilled milk, regrets were for other people. There he was sitting alone in the bar, while they sat together fifteen feet away. He advised himself to look elsewhere, but that moment Richard's hand palmed Thomas' knee and he couldn't take his eyes away from the peaceful smile that replaced the frown in Thomas' forehead. Chris didn't have to look carefully to see the feelings behind those expressive features. Thomas leaned to Richard’s side and whispered in his ear. Tendrils of jealousy coiled in his stomach reminding him how much he craved to be wanted in a way that didn't feel cheap. 

He followed Thomas first with his eyes as he lurched to the bathroom and before he had the time to think and reconsider his action, because Thomas was clearly there with Richard -and wouldn’t that end well?- he followed him physically as well, only to collide with the man himself on his way out. Chris instantly remembered the firm, agile body under his hands, permitting him generously to lead him to a dance, his arm low in his waist. 

Thomas didn’t look well, and of course he didn’t immediately recognise him either and if Chris had to swallow down the disappointment, it only lasted a few moments. Impulsively, he followed Thomas outside making sure he was alright, even as he felt Richard’s gaze burning his back. 

~

  
Richard trailed Thomas with his eyes as the other man headed to the bathroom. Thomas had been fidgeting under the table the whole evening and he had hardly uttered a word other than the necessities as he was introduced to his friends. He wasn’t even trying to get to know them. The knee beneath his hand stopped bouncing the moment Richard put it there, but he couldn’t keep it there in fear of being seen no matter how much he wanted to.

He took a long sip of the pint Fred deposited in front of him. How many was it making them now? Maybe inviting Thomas was a mistake. The evening would have been better spent back home, on their own. Richard let the conversation wash over him and gazed around the room only to stop at a tall, thin figure heading to the bathroom, instantly recognizing him.

Chris bloody Webster. 

He hadn't seen him since that night, two years ago, when he was arrested with Thomas.

When he had been the reason Thomas was arrested. He clenched his fists on his thighs.

What was he doing here, he wondered gulping down more of his beer. _Had his guardian let him off his cage?_ The painful bitterness raised its ugly head as memories of the not so recent past came back. Years later, he couldn’t understand how he had remained calm in the face of Webster’s copper, but as he watched him sauntering to the bathroom, a heaviness settled on his stomach. 

“Webster was checking out Barrow all night,” Fred whispered to him, making sure no one else would listen. “When I first caught him looking this way, I thought he was staring at you, but it was Barrow all along.” 

Richard couldn’t say he was shocked. “Most men would look at Barrow,” he raised an eyebrow, keeping his uneasiness hidden. “You kept looking at him for almost an hour, don’t think I didn’t see you.”

His friend met his gaze. “He’s a handsome man… and he likes to pretend he doesn’t know it.”

Two years ago, Richard would have been tempted to agree with this idea. The years brought an understanding of Thomas’ quirks and by now he knew life had beaten any kind of vanity a younger Thomas might have had. These days, what anyone saw in Thomas was what they got. What Richard saw was a man he wanted to spend his life with. 

What Thomas saw in him was another thing… 

Another pint glass was pushed in front of him and he absentmindedly wrapped his hand around it while his attention was on Thomas coming out of the toilet only to stagger towards the exist instead of coming back to Richard’s side. He watched, heart banging in his chest, as Chris followed Thomas outside. 

“Do they know each other, you think?”

Richard didn’t deem the question deserving an answer. He gulped down as much of his beer as he could and stood faltering for a moment. Decision taken, he grabbed his coat and hat, Thomas' as well. “We’ll continue this some other time,” he said as an alternative to good night and didn’t stay back enough to listen it back. 

“I’d follow them too,” Fred said on his retreating back. 

Exhibiting more confidence than he felt, swallowing the dizziness of the alcohol, he advanced with long strides to the heavy oak door, opening it quietly. The sight that welcomed him was Chris’ hands wrapped on Thomas’ shoulders who was leaning towards the other man.

“Hey, lean against the wall or you fall over. Did you have a lot to drink?”

_Thomas was supposed to wait for him in the pub._ Instead he had left with a random man. The rational part of Richard’s brain that was in working order could offer as many logical explanations in mathematically order and was screaming in his head that he didn’t own Thomas. The other part, the one currently occupied by alcohol and jealousy was louder and stronger. 

“Am I interrupting?”

Chris turned to look at him, a smirk on familiar lips, one hand still on Thomas’ body. Thomas was paler than usual and looking down, _guiltily_ , the green haze whispered gleefully at him. 

  
“Hey, Dick, I was just helping Thomas…” He hated being called Dick. He hated being called Dick by Chris. 

“Like last time you helped him?”

“Last time, I entertained him for a while because his friend had stood him up and left him all alone in an unfamiliar place.”

So, he did remember Thomas. 

“I don’t think I have ever heard you say so many words one after the other. Did you manage to inform him you were the reason he was arrested and almost had his life destroyed? Or did you deem it irrelevant?”

Thomas was staring at them both by now, palms against the wall, steadying himself.

“You know each other?”

“Oh, I know Chris here.”

“Me and Dick go way back…” 

Chris’ leer was kindle to the anger burning in his lungs and Thomas’ forged innocence the spark to ignite it. 

“Don’t touch him!” He grabbed Chris’ hand and pulled it off Thomas’ shoulder who stumbled over his feet and leaned heavier against the wall to catch himself. 

“You had no problem letting me touch you if I remember correctly.”

“Until I had. He’d have too,” he gestured towards Thomas, not taking his eyes off Chris. Last time he hadn’t been able to see him carefully, see the changes from a boy to a man as his gaze was drawn to a distraught Thomas. Chris was older, harsher, he could do without the mustache. “If he knew what you do. Why, he, was, arrested.” He spitted the words, one after the other, finger hitting Chris on the chest with every new word.

“Jealous, are we, Ellis?” Chris leaned close to his him, voice next to his ear, breath tickling the skin of his neck uncomfortably, palm stiffening in a fist by his side.

He heard retching and both men turned around like one entity only to find Thomas heaving by the pavement. Both were by him quickly, supporting him from opposite sides, Richard throwing daggers at Chris over his shoulder. “Is this your making?”

  
Chris clenched his fist and stared Richard down over Thomas’ shoulder. “What exactly do you think I did to him?”

“I don’t know, now, do I?”

“Will you both shut up?” Thomas removed his handkerchief and cleaned his mouth and tried to stand straight unaided. He squinted his eyes against the dim light from the streetlamp. “If you’re done quarreling like fifteen year olds… I can assume you know each other.” His words were precise, slowly uttered, Richard noticed, much slower than Thomas’ usual way of talking.

“We went to the same school,” Chris hastened to answer Thomas, and Richard gritted his teeth in annoyance. 

Thomas closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall. His hair had fallen over his forehead and Richard wanted to push it away, touch the skin and check if he’s alright. 

But Chris was not going away. He was standing there, next to Thomas, ready to catch him, as if Richard weren’t adequate at taking care of his… of Thomas. Richard watched as Chris caught Thomas shoulder and squeezed it. He saw red for a moment, like a bull in the arena, provoked to attack. He grabbed Chris by his forearms and pulled him away from Thomas, pushing him away. “That’s enough for one day, Chris.”

Christ advanced at him there was a thrill going through Richard’s body, palms clenching into fists, feet apart and ready to fight when Thomas came between the two of them, his back to Richard looking at Chris. “Thank you for helping tonight, Chris.” He reached over for a handshake and Richard bristled at the thought of their hands touching. Thomas’ unscarred hand touching Chris’. Both of them had long fingered hands, he thought, elegant hands. “No, don’t look at Richard. We’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” 

Richard couldn’t see either of them, and Thomas’s left arm was raised to the side and back towards him, keeping him away from Chris, protecting him.   
Who was “him”?   
Was Thomas protecting Richard from Chris?   
Or Chris from Richard?

“See you around,” were Chris’ parting words. “I’m coming here often…” 

Richard moved forward only to be stopped by Thomas’ body who slowly turned around and pushed him forcefully against the wall. And not in the fun way,

_“I’m not my Mother,_ ” Thomas whispered slowly to him. Yelling it from the rooftops would have the same effect on Richard’s inebriated brain. He sagged against the wall, all anger and jealousy deserting him, leaving him with an awful feeling of emptiness as Thomas turned around, walking towards the opposite direction Chris had taken only moments before. 

Richard breathed in deeply and trudged behind Thomas who was walking slowly with long steps until he bent forwards clutching his head, gasping for air. Richard wasn’t far behind him but he ran to him catching him. He wrapped his arms around him and pulled him back against him. Thomas’ breathing was laboured and every little detail of their outing he had taken as Thomas’ haughtiness returned to him. “Do you need a doctor, love?”

“A bed will do.”

Richard pulled Thomas’ arm over his shoulder and wrapped his own around his waist. “Come on, home’s not far away.”

Richard led Thomas to his home and helped him take off his coat, suit jacket and shoes. “Here, lie down, I’ll bring you something to drink.” Thomas lied down on the bed with a pained groan, his left arm instantly covering his eyes.

Richard mixed the powder with a little water and stirred before helping Thomas to sit up and drink it. “Drink it, and sleep all you want.”

“Can’t sleep,” Thomas murmured against his shirt, pressing his head on his chest. Richard cupped his head and helped him down, lying next to him. 

This wasn’t how he had planned to spend the night with Thomas. Holding him and helping him past the ache made heart flutter with affection though and settled as close to the other man as he could. 

By the time Thomas’ breathing evened out, the effect of the alcohol had left his system and he cursed himself and Chris for getting in their way.   
Again. 

Hours later, Thomas stirred against him and he tightened his arms around him. “Are you alright?”

“Pain is down to normal.”

“Normal?”

“I can tolerate it.”

“Jesus, Thomas, was it so bad?”

Thomas moved away from him and settled himself against the headboard. “They are not usually so bad, but it happens.” He shrugged evasively. “This was a bad one. I was stressed this week.”

“What causes them? Have you checked it with a doctor?”

“Yes." Thomas was quiet for a few moments. " See I was in a fight some years back and they banged my head against a wall.”

This didn’t sound like Thomas. He had heard so many stories from Thomas’ past that he sometimes wondered how much the man he loved had changed over the years. “They? How many were they? How did it happen?”

“Well, they tried to attack a friend. I happened to be there. And I told him to leave.”

“And did he?”

“Yes. He went to call for help, but his attackers were many. He had money with him you see and they knew…” 

Richard didn’t really see. “So, he left you there, alone.”

“He was younger, smaller and I wanted to protect him. He was my friend.” Not an excuse. 

“And you cared for him.”

“Yes.’

“Where is he now?”

“Lord Grantham fired him when he caught him with a guest.”

“A male guest?”

Thomas’ laughter lacked in amusement. “Female guest. His previous employer.” And Richard understood.

Ouch! It must have hurt. It still did, if Thomas’ headache was a result of his affection.  
Richard wanted to take him in his arms and make him forget all past unhappiness, pains and tragedy.

“Do you often drink like you did tonight?” Thomas was staring straight ahead, lips drawn into a line, afraid of the answer to his question.

_“I’m not my Mother.”_

_No!_  
_No no no no!_

“No, Thomas, I don’t.” _I'm not your father._

He reached over and took Thomas’ hand in his. He squeezed it gently and slipped his fingers through Thomas’. “I’m sorry.”

  
“You were jealous. And you were drunk.” Thomas turned their hands around and squeezed back, his gaze on their intertwined hands. “It’s not a good combination.”

This is a promise he can keep. Richard never drunk a lot. “I don’t drink.”

“Good.” He looked up at him, blue eyes locked on blue eyes. “Chris. Should I worry?” 

Richard smiled, the first real smile that night and bent towards Thomas, lips caressing lips, the light from the lamp illuminating the pale face. "If anyone should worry about Webster it's me."

"You're silly."

Richard pulled Thomas to him and wrapped himself around his lean body. 

**Author's Note:**

> Allusion to a past relationship between Richard and Chris.  
> Allusion to Chris having **a kind of** an affair with the police officer Richard had to talk to release Thomas. Because, why not?
> 
> I started writing it with a bad migraine. It (the story, not my migraine) escalated with Chris' presence. Richard is an unreliable narrator in regards to Chris.


End file.
